


Still Here

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Homelessness, Intentionally Bittersweet in Retrospect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 03:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17459861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: They're together and that's just fine.





	Still Here

**Author's Note:**

> anyway everything hurts but i wrote something when molly died and this is on par if not worse Emotionally so
> 
> not beta'd

They sleep curled against each other in an alleyway. 

It is filthy- disgusting really- and miserably cold at night. But they can't afford a room, and they've already tried stealing. No one caught them, but they didn't get anything that was worth the danger. Just a few copper that looked gold in the dim light. 

It's no ones mistake. 

Caleb spends the copper at a stall, two sandwiches, and two ales and it's better than nothing. 

Caleb spins his wire around the cobblestones while Nott watches at the mouth of the alley. 

He sits down behind a few of the empty barrels, and she presses against his side. He lifts his coat so that their shared warmth is more direct and she wraps her arms around him. 

“We're okay.” She says. 

And they are. 

It's not good, it's not great, but it's not a jail cell with the threat of a hanging or a day in the stockade tomorrow. They can get a little filthy and get a little cold. His back is going to hurt tomorrow, curled up on the stone, but that's okay too. 

“Ja. Full.” 

She presses a kiss into his forehead, and he smiles at her. 

He has nightmares about the cold basement, about Trent's whip, sharp and burning on his back, on his hands, on his ribs. She has nightmares that she doesn't tell him about, doesn't really make much of any noise, just clings tighter to Caleb's dirty shirt. 

“We're okay.” She says again when they're both awake, and it's maybe four in the morning. 

Frumpkin purrs, warm between them. 

She's right, because there's no other option, no alternative. 

They're okay or they're half way to dead. 

Sometimes he thinks maybe that would be better and he's pretty sure he sees her thinking the same thing. 

But they're not. 

They're still here. 

Despite everything. Despite themselves. 

They have each other and they're just fine. 

And nothing is going to change that.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> talk[ to me here](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/)


End file.
